


I remember

by UtopiaForAll



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Doctor Who/Sherlock crossover, Fluff, Gen, Kid John, Kidlock, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock - Freeform, Some angst, TARDIS - Freeform, Time Travel, Wholock, Young John Watson, doctor who - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-20 00:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UtopiaForAll/pseuds/UtopiaForAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a foggy night, young John Watson makes a very strange but interesting encounter. After all, you don't get to meet the Doctor every day. What he doesn't suspect, however, is that the Time Lord knows some important things about him and that the strange man who seems to be so grumpy with him is going to become very important.<br/>(I'm rubbish at summaries).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monsters? You said monsters!?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, there! So this is actually the first time I've ever written a fanfiction in English. Who!lock, because... well, Wholock (obviously) and I hope you will like it. xoxo

It all happened on a foggy night in London, when little John Watson was lying on his bed, his eyes wide opened because he couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. Even though he was trying not to shudder and cry, he genuinely looked scared and kept covering his face with his blanket. The house was empty, and the entire street was dreadfully quiet. The boy didn't like that.

John Watson was a brave little boy, albeit a bit frightened when he was on his own. He was that type of person who enjoyed company but hated being alone. Unlike his sister, he loved his parents very much and had the brightest and gentlest smile one could ever picture.

That day, however, was not one of those days where he would smile and laugh heartily with his dad or his friends. On the contrary, there wasn't the faintest trace of a smile on the boy's face and he was actually praying that someone – anyone, in fact, would come and stay with him.

John let out a faint whimper when he heard a loud bang coming from outside. Sitting up abruptly in his bed, he quickly ran to his window and opened it to look outside. But since he wasn't able to see through the patch of fog outside, the eight years old decided to grab a torch and go outside to find out what had happened in his garden. So he put on his dressing gown and trotted downstairs, struggling at some point to grasp the keys – he really, really wished he were taller, sometimes.

When he made it downstairs, John swallowed thickly and walked carefully, all his senses on alert. He jolted and almost fell on the grass when a man appeared from nowhere grumbling something barely audible about a bad landing and a swimming pool. The said-man was wearing a tweed jacket and a bow tie that he kept brushing with his fingers unconsciously. But what surprised John the most was that fez on his head. Maybe he was mad.

"Earth. Why always the Earth?" the mad man mumbled while looking around him with narrowed eyes. "I know you like it, sexy, but really, I'd rath- Oh, hello!"

The older one noticed the small boy staring at him with a curious look and smiled widely.

'Oh, look at you, laddy! You look so young! Now, that's always cool. Being young, I remember when I was ninety-nine years old, I would-"

If John had felt a bit scared when he heard the loud bang, he wasn't anymore. The man was actually rather fun – but still mad – and most of all, he wasn't as scary as the monsters inside his house. Still, he stopped talking when John smiled shyly.

"You're not scared. That's good. I like people who're not scared. I'm the Doctor, by the way." The 'Doctor' said quickly, crouching in front of John. He was wearing a wide grin and was definitely pleased to see that John didn't look scared.

"That's a beautiful house that you have there, you know. Oh, look at you, you're so small!"

"I'm not small!" John protested, crossing his arms on his chest in a defiant way. The Doctor chuckled gently at that and nodded slowly.

"Nah, of course you're not. You look cool. Now, I hope I didn't wake you up. Or your parents…" He frowned a bit to himself. "By the way, where are they? Your parents, I mean. They wouldn't let you go outside at this time of the night, would they?"

When the Doctor mentioned his parents, John's smile flattered a little and he looked away, refusing to meet the mad man's eyes while he replied:

"There's just… me." He confessed, pressing his lips into a thin line. The cold surrounding them was making him shiver despite his will to remain still. After all, he didn't want the stranger to think that he was shivering because he was scared.

"Just you? Where are your parents?"

"I don't know. There's just my sister, but not today. She's at a friend's, left me on my own."

The Doctor moved gently to pat at his shoulder and looked at him fondly. His eyes looked so warm and old at the same time, and even John, as young as he was, noticed that. These eyes were the eyes of a wise man, not a mad one. But in the end, the boy supposed, maybe you could be both.

"Do you want to come inside?" He proposed, another smile tugging at his lips. Strangers were usually not allowed inside, but after all, he was on his own and frightened. "I've got food," he explained, as if it was a sufficient argument to convince the man – well apparently it was, since he nodded and followed John with an excited look.

"Do you have fish fingers and custard?" The Doctor asked, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "I had a friend of mine who had some and… never mind." He clasped his hand and went to open the fridge and look inside. "Jam?! Who likes jam?" he yelled, his voice slightly muffled because his head was almost inside the fridge.

"I do." John admitted, chuckling a little bit to himself. He had almost forgotten about his fears, and in fact, it felt wonderful… like having a new friend.

"Ah, custard!" The Doctor cried out, looking over John with a satisfied grin. Apparently, he had also found some fish fingers for he was already sitting at the table and opening the packet. "You should try it. It's delicious."

"You should try jam. Everybody loves jam," The boy replied, licking at the spoon, happily savoring the taste of his favourite type of jam.

"You remind me of her, you know," The other one said with his mouth full of food. He swallowed and went on: "My friend. She wasn't scared of me when I met her, but I could tell that something else was scaring her to death. Now tell me my dear boy, what are you afraid of?"

John put the spoon down and stared at his hands on his lap, exhaling slowly through his nose. When he looked up, he first looked on the window, then on the door and finally on the stairs which gave into the upstairs attic. Licking his lips nervously, he finally turned his gaze back on the Doctor and no longer looked happy and smiling. His big blue eyes were staring at his new friend with fear. "The monsters." He finally said quietly, swallowing thickly.

"Monsters, you say?" The Doctor got up, running a hand in his hair before quickly glancing at the door of the feared attic. "Did you tell your parents about those monsters?" He asked softly, walking back to the little boy. The latter nodded quickly but remained quiet. "Ah, that's the thing about parents," The man complained, making a face. "They're all so irrational and never remember about their own fears."

John's face lit up immediately when he realized that this mad man, whoever he truly was, actually believed him. "You believe me!" He stated, looking genuinely surprised.

"Of course I believe you! Monsters, hidden in the attic of a house in London? That's quite something, laddy! Which reminds me… I didn't even ask you your name! Such a clever boy like you must have a fantastic name." He patted his shoulder while speaking and locked eyes with him.

"No, it's a boring name. Like Harry. I'm John."

"Hello, John! Well, I'm glad I actually landed in your garden and met you."

"I'm glad I met you too," the boy replied with a new bright smile. "You're fun and I like you."

Again, the 'mad man' looked touched at the boy's reply and smiled in return. However, John noticed that only seconds after that, he seemed to freeze completely and widened his eyes.

"Hang on… What was the name of your sister, you said?" He asked sharply, grasping the boy's shoulders."

"H-Harry," He was a bit taken aback by this sudden reaction. "Well, we call her Harry, but she's named Harriet. What? What happened to her?"

"John. John. God, what's your surname, John?"

"John Watson."

"I've got to go." The eight years old boy opened his mouth to protest, but before he had time to say anything, the Doctor was already running outside the house and slammed the back door.

"Why don't you stay…" John said quietly, lowering his gaze. A sudden surge of sadness hit him when he realized that he was alone again and that in the end, no one wanted to stay with him inside his house. First his parents, then his own sister who had gotten fed up with his irrational fears had left.

All the same, he wasn't that type of person who easily gave up. It was a trait he shared with his father and for a boy this young; he could become very annoying when he wanted to. Taking a sharp breath, John tightened his dressing gown around him and followed the Doctor's step, slamming the door behind him as well to find him in the thick fog outside. The sandy-haired boy could barely see anything even if he tried to narrow his eyes. Three minutes later, he hit something hard and let out a cry of pain.

Wood. From what he could touch with his hand and could see, it looked like wood. A blue box of wood. Not big but not small either. It was special, though, even though he couldn't tell exactly how or why. "Doctor?"

There was no reply at first, so John called the man's name (if it was really his name) several times, until he heard something open – a door. "John! Sorry, had to check something very quickly. Sorry about that." He frowned a bit to himself and then added: "Why don't you come in? There's someone in here who would like to meet you, I think. He doesn't know that you're here, though and… he's a bit… grumpy, I guess. Definitely grumpy. But not bad. No, he's grumpy."

"What do you mean, come in? It's just a box. We can't fit in here."

"Why don't you find out by yourself?"

What was inside that blue-box wasn't wood… It was... outstanding, cool. Those were the adjectives that first came to John's mind. It was… "It's bigger on the inside!" He exclaimed, and the Doctor seemed over-the-moon to hear him say those words. "Yes! And it also travels in time!" With that, he ran towards the console in the middle of the room and checked several devices with an excited grin as he straightened his bow tie. "Now!" He clasped his hand and looked at John with a serious look. "I talked about a man, and I really would like you to meet him."

"Is he sad?" The boy asked quietly, finally taking his eyes off the console. "The man you talked about. You said he was grumpy."

At that, the Doctor only smiled sadly and sighed gently, leaning his back on the barriers. "What makes you say that?"

John considered the question for some point, and replied with all the honesty possible in the world: "There was this boy in my classroom, he was always very grumpy and snapped at everyone. My mum told me to talk to him, because he was probably sad. And she was right. His daddy had gone to heaven and he missed him. So your friend, is he sad?"

"Yes. Yes, he is." The man replied with a nod. "You really are a good boy, you know that? I don't remember a lot of children who could really see so much. Now, come on, follow me," He gently took John's little hand in his and pulled him along with him. They went across a long corridor that was a bit dark but less scary than his house and stopped in front of a door. There, the Doctor laid a hand on John's shoulder and encouraged him to come inside. "Go on, go inside," He told him softly, giving him a slight squeeze. The young one nodded and opened the door carefully, scanning the room before spotting another man with curly hair lain down a bed, still wearing his clothes.

"I want you to meet my friend," The Doctor said out loud, still holding the boy's shoulders gently. "Sherlock Holmes."


	2. Dull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here come troubles~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So this chapter is a bit shorter than the previous one, and there's a lot of talking. Things start to get really interesting after that. Just so you know, the story takes place after the Reichenbach Fall (take that Sherlock! ahrem).
> 
> Of course, I do not own any of these wonderful characters. They belong to the famous Sir Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and Sydney Newman.

Sherlock looked rather pissed off, for lack of better words. Apparently, seeing John didn’t have the expected effect on him for he kept glaring at the both of them.

“So it’s not enough that I am staying with you. Now you are trying to cheer me up by bringing a child in the TARDIS?”

Nevertheless, the grumpy man’s reaction didn’t stop John from staring at him with interest. He was rude, though, very rude, but there was something quite mysterious about him. His eyes looked impressive and very different from John’s dark blue eyes. Those were very pale, and very intimidating, and gave him the feeling that ‘Sherlock’ could read him as easily as he would read a book. “I did say he was grumpy,” the Doctor declared when the boy looked over his shoulder with a questioning look.

“Oh, do try to stop, Doctor. This is getting annoying. I told you, I am fine and I don’t need a puppy or a… child to feel… happy.” The word happy looked almost foreign in his mouth, as if he actually hated… no, despised that word.

“You don’t look happy,” John risked saying, stepping back a little, just for good measure. 

At that, the man snorted and raised an eyebrow, locking his grey eyes on the boy’s face. “How would you know? Your little brain is barely used, and you’re just stupid, no matter what he may have told you.” Sherlock gritted his teeth and then closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the wall of the room. He wasn’t just sad from what John could tell. He was also angry and extremely bitter. 

“I may be stupid,” John started, clenching his small hands into fists, “But I can see!”

The other was about to reply something when the Doctor cut him. “Enough, Sherlock.” His own tone was still very soft, and it was clear that he was trying to empathize with his friend. “I think you put aside you deduction skill and for once, just see this boy for what he is. You are judging him too quickly. Did you at least wonder what his name was? Or why I brought him here to see you?”

“Names,” Sherlock grunted, rolling his eyes at the same time. "Hardly matters, and you know that.”

“You will this time, I can promise you.” He assured him, smiling softly at his friend’s figure. “Go on, tell him your name.” He told John, encouraging him to step forward. 

John would rather have walked away and waited for the man to calm down a little, but apparently, he didn’t have the choice. Bravely, the boy cleared his throat and tried not to look away from those scrutinizing and intimidating pale eyes. “I’m John.” He stammered, and he saw the man blink a little and look at the Doctor with a strange look on his face. 

For once tiny moment, he looked genuinely hurt and impossibly sad, but quickly, he composed himself and replied with a dull tone: “Nice touch; the name. Very sentimental of you.” He smiled tightly.

“Sherlock, look at him.” 

For the first time since their encounter, the ‘grumpy man’ looked away and stared at the wall stubbornly. “Dull.”

“I said, look at him.” John still didn’t understand what the Doctor was trying to do. Sherlock didn’t like him, it was very much obvious.

“I am not going to take care of a frightened child whose parents left him on his own.”

“Sher-“

“How can you know that?” John asked, raising his eyebrows as he was really surprised, though a bit offended to hear someone say that he was frightened.

“Obvious.” Sherlock replied his face still neutral and his gaze cold. “The Doctor landed here by mistake. You are wearing your pyjamas, so it must be late. Midnight? But I see the face of a boy who is exhausted and yet doesn't sleep. You still got outside when you heard a loud bang coming from the garden. No reasonable parents would let their child go outside in the middle of the night… except if they are not here. You’re on your own, then. Tired face: a boy who can hardly sleep because he is afraid of something.” He paused, studying the boy more carefully. “You are afraid of something in your house, but not of the Doctor… or even me. Interesting. Monsters, maybe? The Doctor brought you here, so it means that he suspects these monsters might be real and not just from your imagination. Now tell me, John, am I wrong?” 

There was a long uncomfortable silence during which everyone almost stopped breathing – except Sherlock, because he didn’t want to even care in the slightest. 

“That’s cool!” John finally said, staring at Sherlock with even more curiosity. “How can you do that? Can you teach me?” His reaction was unexpected apparently, because the man’s face immediately changed. He saw him swallow and his face seemed to soften.

“What’s your surname, John?” Sherlock asked, with a tone that sounded completely different.

“I'm John Watson," He said hesitantly, looking over his shoulder to look at the Doctor, as if he were seeking for some king of explanation. "What is it? Why are you sad? Is it because of me?"

The eyes of the man in front of him were still studying his face carefully. It seemed that Sherlock was trying to determine whether he was lying or not - which was stupid. Why would he lie about this? It was just his name, not a big deal.

"What you did, Doctor, is very stupid."

"I know what you're thinking," The Doctor replied, clasping his hands behind his back. "And you are wrong. I didn't do this on purpose. Time has been re-written and I need to find out why. Your little friend here is in danger, and as long as he stays in the TARDIS, he'll be fine. And you will be."

Sherlock's jaw clenched even more tightly and another wave of anger seemed to hit him at this very moment. "I don't need your pity. You might own a time machine, you can't always change the past. What is done is done and I can't do anything to change that. I thought you, of all people, would understand that." John moved back instantly when he understood that Sherlock was going to storm out of the room. He knew he should have been scared, because the dark-haired man looked dangerous, and seemingly very angry, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. 

The Doctor, noticing the boy's inner debate, brushed his hair gently, giving him a smile. "That wasn't so bad," He breathed out, as he took his hand and led him outside Sherlock's bedroom. "Forgive him, he's a bit... Like you said, he's very sad. And it makes him very grumpy. But don't worry; I'm sure he likes you. In fact, I know that he likes you, but you remind him of someone he loved very m-."

From afar, they heard Sherlock laugh sarcastically. "Very, very much," The Doctor finished more loudly, only sending a glare over the direction that the other man had taken when he had left. "Now, come on, my boy, I've got something I'd like to show you. Any questions?"

John thrust his hands into his pockets and fell in behind the Doctor. "Do you know what happened to my parents?" 

The question was unexpected, and the man's look darkened a little at that. "I'm sorry, John. I don't know, but I promise you I will find out and bring them back to you. Do you trust me?" 

The boy nodded and exhaled through his nose, his lips pressed together tightly. 

"Listen to me," The Doctor continued, crouching down in front of him so that they would be at the same height. "Those monsters... they scare you, don't they?"

"Yes." He shrugged.

"And you know that we are all afraid of something, no matter how old you are."

"But Harry said..."

"Your sister is wrong," The Doctor cut him, laying a finger on his lips. "We are all scared of something, even I. There're those monsters, they're called the Daleks. And they scare me a lot. But you know what? Every monster is scared of someone."

"Who?"

"Me." He grinned widely and ruffled John's hair quickly. “Now! I want you to remember that you must not touch anything in the console room. You don’t want to end up in the middle of nowhere in 1221, do you?” They arrived at the console room and the Doctor started pulling some levers and checking the screens on the console. “We need to find out what’s hidden in that good old house of yours - which is why I brought you here in the first place. So! Did they talk to you, once or twice?”

John shook his head slowly and watched the screen on top of the console, confusion written all over his face. “That’s my attic.” There was nothing inside; no monsters, no human beings. Nothing at all. Remembering the Doctor’s question, he cleared his throat quietly and replied: “I heard them once. They talked about me. Harry said I’m mad, but I remember what they said. Can they have a time machine, like you?”

“A time machine?” The Doctor repeated, as a chuckle escaped his lips. “Of course they can’t! I mean, only Time Lords can have a TARDIS. And this is the last one.”

“Time Lord?”

“My species.” He waved a hand dismissively and added: “I’m not human. I’m an alien. Time Lord. Last of my kind!”

John widened his eyes a little and let out a surprised gasp. “Is Sherlock an… alien as well? You look human.”

“Nope! He’s human, but don’t tell him that or he will bite you. And you look Time Lord, we were the first! So, little John, what did those bad monsters tell about you?”

“They said something about my future,” He began, pausing as he tried to remember their exact words. “Apparently, I’m going to do something they don’t like. I don’t know what, though. They said they would…” The boy felt suddenly both awkward and apprehensive. He shifted a little. “They want to stop me from doing what they don’t like. Do you know what this mean?”

“Oh, John, it means that Sherlock is very wrong when he thinks that nothing can happen to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to arobberandavampire aka Lacey who corrected this chapter and to the-ripper-victim, for being amazing, as always.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Chapter 2 will be posted very soon.
> 
> I would like to thank thedoctorsherlockedmyheart who was kind enough to correct this chapter. Special thanks as well to bad-case-of-loving-doctor-watson.  
> I would have never even dared to write anything without the amazing support of my best friends, the 'John's' to my Sherlock.


End file.
